


i'm a liar in a way that's uniquely my own

by deathrae



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Akumatized Adrien, F/M, Identity Reveal, messed up adrien home life is my JAM man, pre-identity reveal, these kids are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathrae/pseuds/deathrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"All the world's a stage," he purred. "I'm just the only one who can see it."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It shouldn't have been possible for Hawk Moth to take Adrien. But then, they dealt with impossible things every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Question for the Viewers at Home

Akuma attacks were tough, and scary, but she could deal with those. If she were being honest with herself, it was the non-akuma altercations that were the real challenge. Partially because she didn’t always get backup. Chat Noir was usually aware of the presence of a true akuma, either because she called him or because he found out on his own, but when it was just ordinary criminals, or a runaway bus? He usually couldn’t help, or didn’t arrive until after it was over.

She also had to be a lot more careful with the mundane fights. Her suit protected her from a lot of damage, but direct hits to the face tended to make it through, and if there was no akuma to cleanse, there was no healing magic to be cast when it was over. All the more reason to end fights quick and clean, before she risked anything she had to hide from her family.

Today though... today she had not been so lucky as her title usually implied. Her patrol was interrupted by a bank robbery committed by either the very brave or the very stupid—these days, most petty thieves gave up when they saw her, figuring their defeat was inevitable. These had fought to the last, one of them clipping her across the forehead with a fist, another catching her full on the mouth. She could still taste blood when the fight had ended and the police took over.

“Ladybug! Ladybug! Please, one question for the viewers at home?”

A camera pushed toward her face and she leaned away from it instinctively, smiling her firm-but-kind Ladybug smile.

“Alright, just one.”

The reporter lit up like a stage light and pressed closer with her microphone. “What’s the hardest part of your work for the city?”

She smiled, looking dead into the camera. “Balancing day to day obligations and hero work, of course!” She stepped back, spinning her yo-yo. “Sorry, but that’s all I have time for. Gotta bug out!” With a flick of her wrist, she sent the yo-yo to twist around a gutter and leapt into flight, swinging away from the reporters until her feet hit roof tiles. She jogged across two more buildings before skidding to a stop, spotting her partner ahead of her and racing her way.

Chat leapt to the roof to meet her, panting, and then looked around. “Ah,” he said, deflating like a balloon. “Late again.”

“Silly kitty,” she said, chuckling, and he gave her a put-upon look. “It wasn’t anything too bad. Just a robbery.”

He opened his mouth to protest the point, then froze, finally looking at her face. “Just a robbery?” he complained, closing the distance to her so fast she couldn’t squirm away from him. He took her face in his hands, turning her slightly to see the cut on her lip more clearly. “But... they hurt you.”

“Not too badly, Chat,” she said, smiling as gently as she could. There was something in his voice, a rawness that didn’t sound like her normal flippant, devil-may-care Chat. “It’s okay.”

“Hrm,” he grumbled, belatedly pulling his hands away like he’d only just noticed he was still touching her. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

“My valiant protector,” she teased, with a laugh, and he flushed, straightening up with pride, his concern vanishing as suddenly as it had come. “You worry far too much about me, really. It’s fine!”

“Alright, well, my turn to patrol,” he said with a sly grin and a tiny salute. “I’ll ring you if there’s trouble.”

“Please do,” she said, patting his shoulder and winding her way home.

Tikki munched a cookie and watched in the mirror as Marinette dabbed peroxide on her lip, hissing.

“Maybe... I’ll tell people I tripped?” she suggested, wincing as it stung her skin.

“Maybe,” Tikki said, her lilting-flute voice soft and unsure. She tilted her head at the reflection of her chosen hero.

“I could say I fell down the stairs... or that I bumped into a desk, maybe?

“Mm, I dunno Marinette,” Tikki said, fluttering around ear-level. “People know you can be clumsy but that might be too much of a stretch!”

Marinette sighed. “Yeah... I guess we’ll see what happens. M-maybe no one will notice!”

Tikki gave her a flat look.

“Everyone will notice, won’t they.”

“Probably.”

“Ugh... Tikki, I’m so tired of lying to everyone.”

“I know Marinette, but—”

“No, it’s okay. I know: it’s not safe. If I tell my parents, or my friends, they become targets. If Alya finds out she might say the wrong thing on the blog. If anyone who knows gets akumatized, Hawk Moth could get that information.” Tikki nodded, quiet, but her eyes had gone sad. “I know all that, it’s just... hard.”

“I know, Marinette, I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter to start...


	2. A Flutter of Wings

To say that Adrien’s day had a “rough start” would be something of an understatement.

Adrien had woken up far too early in the morning, dragged from stressful dreams about bank robbers and blood by the sound of Plagg snoring, vaguely like ripping paper. Before he’d had time to shove Plagg under his pillow to muffle the noise and roll over to fall back asleep, the sharp, staccato knock of his father’s assistant shattered his focus. Nathalie had come to remind him (so she said) about a shoot that morning before school... that he’d never known was scheduled. She _claimed_ she’d told him the day prior, but that couldn’t be true—yesterday had been packed and he hadn’t even seen Nathalie all day. Between school, fencing practice, patrols of the rooftops, and a shoot in the park, he’d barely seen _anyone_ for more than a few seconds.

He hadn’t even seen Ladybug for longer than that one brief conversation between their shift change. He almost longed for an akuma attack, if only so he could have something else to focus on for a solid five minutes. He grimaced at that thought, frowning. That definitely wasn’t something he should _hope_ for.

Nathalie chattered at him all the way down to the car about his schedule for the rest of the week, and handed him the scarf from his father, insisting that the weather was beginning to turn, that it was getting chilly. Blessed silence only came once he’d taken the scarf and closed the door in her face.

Then school.

Chloe asked for his homework from the day before. Sabrina was sick, so of course, Chloe hadn’t had the time (did she think he was stupid?) to do her physics homework, so _could she take a look at his?_

Nino was gone, presumably down with whatever had infected Sabrina, removing one of the few truly bolstering presences from his microcosm. The desk felt entirely too large without his friend beside him. Alya, usually a solid backup, was distracted, scribbling notes all over a pad of paper. Probably working out some new Ladybug theory that would either be so outlandish he could ignore it or so close to home he’d be caught in raging paranoia.

While Marinette was not exactly a good go-to for conversation, she kept hiding in her book all morning, looking like she was about to fall asleep behind it.

Kim gave him ugly looks once Chloe whined about Adrien’s _lack of generosity_ , and Adrien found himself bitterly wondering when Kim had decided to go back to liking Chloe despite that whole _Dark Cupid_ incident. Rose kept asking him if he was alright because he seemed “down.”

_No kidding_ , he almost shouted, biting down the words before he could make a mistake and draw an awful lot of attention to himself.

Lunch brought new bad news in the form of a call from Nathalie.

“I know we thought your father would be able to visit tomorrow for that event, that uh...”

“The charity drive at school?” Adrien prompted.

“Right, of course,” she said, too quickly, and he knew she’d had no idea what it was. Which meant, because Nathalie was at times an almost _comically_ clumsy liar, that his father had never intended to come. If he were honest with himself, he’d known that from the beginning, but he wanted to hope anyway. He always did.

Even though he knew there wasn’t a point.

“Fine,” he said, slightly more terse than he really should have been. He had to be kind, considerate, and _perfect_ , or his father would hear of it. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.”

“Adrien—”

“Forget it, Nathalie, it’s fine.”

He hung up before she could say anything else and burrowed deeper into the shadow of a tree in front of the school, trying to resist the urge to kick stones across the ground or, worse, to con Plagg into a mid-day stroll across the rooftops of Paris, school be damned. He dug his fingers into the scarf, a small part of him wanting to rip it off his shoulders and toss it aside. How was he so stupid to think his father could change? Might change, for him? When Nathalie gave him the scarf he thought maybe it was a turning point for their relationship.

He was such a fool. He was only what his father had made him: a living doll to wear his clothing for the cameras. Nothing else.

His kwami’s head poked up from his shirt collar, just enough to be heard. “You shouldn’t sulk, you know. It makes you look like a child.”

Adrien growled low in his throat before he could shut down the Chat-borrowed sound, and Plagg crossed his small arms over his chest, unimpressed.

“Very intimidating.”

“Shut up.” Adrien shoved him back under the collar of his shirt and headed back toward the steps to the front door, bumping into Marinette.

She yelped, windmilling her arms as she backed away from him.

“A-Adrien! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking, I didn’t—I’m sorry, I just—”

He raised his hands, the frantic babble of her voice cutting through his skull and threatening a pinpoint headache.

“It’s fine, Marinette. Really.”

She softened slightly, but at least she went quiet, standing in front of him with her hands tangled together. “Right...”

He looked at her now, actually looked at her. She looked much the same as always, her trusty bag at her side, her usual light jacket swapped out for a slightly heavier coat. Hair still tied up just like how Ladybug wore it. His gaze flicked to her face, and he frowned, noting a smear of blackish-purple on her forehead like a day-old bruise, dangerously close to her eye. There was a healing cut on her lip, too. Without thinking he’d raised a hand to her face, thumb brushing just to the side of the mark at her mouth, and she froze.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked, and her blue eyes were wide with something like fright. “Did someone hit you? Did someone attack you?” He was such an idiot! Of all the civilians in this stupid city, if she’d been harmed while he was on or even _off_ duty...

“O-oh! Um, n-no, I, you know, I’m such a klutz, haha! I just, you know, doorknobs—” She scrambled, waving her hands around, frantically looking for an excuse, and he sighed, interrupting her.

“Marinette.”

She clattered to a stop with all the elegance of a puppy, looking up at him, her eyes wide and increasingly empathetic as she took in the look on his face—the tired slant of his mouth, the shine of pain in his eyes. “Please. Don’t you lie to me too.”

“Adrien,” she said, trailing off like she couldn’t find anything else to add.

He turned away when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything else. Plagg was oddly quiet now, as if the tiny cat-creature had finally realized the gravity pulling Adrien down and had decided to stop bickering. Adrien turned the corner around the school and curled his fingers into his scarf.

The last thing he heard as himself was a flutter of wings by his ear.

_Catwalk—_

A low, sultry voice spoke in his mind. But the message was garbled, twisted, like trying to hold cell signal in a tunnel.

_There are so many secrets in this world, so many lies_ —

What? he tried to ask, but all that came out was a strangled _mewrl_.

— _do this for me and the world will know how it feels—_

I can’t understand, he tried to yell, but the words didn’t come. Colors danced in front of his face, browns and golds and reds. Leaves in the gutter... Rough stone scraped at the palm of his hand. He was leaning against the school wall?

**Adrien! Don’t listen!**

That sounded like Plagg...

— _and all their secrets will be bared under your spotlights!_

“I like the sound of that,” he muttered. He was so tired...

Purple-black overwhelmed his vision, rippling up over his face and clinging like fog. His skin burned and prickled like he was under stage lights.

**Adrien!**

He thought he heard Plagg scream in pain, the sound swirling and dimming like it did when he was pulled into the ring unprepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE WE GO. Next chapter is half-done-ish, hope to have it up soon!


	3. No More Secrets, Not Between Us

Marinette stood on the steps of the school and chewed on her lip, ducking behind the steps to open her bag and whisper into it. “Do you think I should go after him?”

Tikki frowned, rubbing her little paw over her chin. “I dunno Marinette...”

“I’ve never seen him so upset. What if—oh no! What if Hawk Moth goes after him?”

Tikki flopped a paw at her. “I don’t think you need to worry about _that!”_

Marinette frowned. It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered if Tikki knew something she didn’t, but this time was hard to ignore.

“I’m sure he’ll be f–” Tikki froze, eyes wide with horror. Dimly Marinette heard... something? Almost like a tiny, muted scream.

“What was _that?”_

“Marinette,” Tikki whispered, zipping out of the bag to grab at her face, her tiny hands gripping Marinette’s lip. “Something _terrible_ has happened!”

“What? How do you know?”

“It shouldn’t ever happen! It shouldn’t even be possible!”

“Tikki!”

“Go after Adrien!”

Confused, but panicked if only because Tikki was acting so _strange_ , Marinette stuffed her back into her bag and took off at a run, rounding the school and skidding in her sneakers.

The side street was almost empty, except for a young woman who lurched at her and grabbed her by the lapels of her coat. Her eyes were wide and white, like she was struck blind, and she yanked at Marinette’s clothes, making her choke on a breath.

“M-ma’am?” Marinette squeaked.

“I had an affair!” the woman gasped, tears streaming down her face at the admission. “I cheated on my husband! I told our kids I would be home on time!”

The woman lurched away, shouting more to anyone who might listen to her.

“That was... weird,” Marinette muttered, watching the woman for a moment to make sure someone was at least attempting to look after her and that she wasn’t about to walk into traffic. She whirled around again, scanning the street, but where before the space around her had been empty, now there was one person in it.

One person who was _definitely_ not a civilian.

He stood easily a head taller than her, his long legs encased in black leather like armor. A long tail curled behind him where a belt hung from the back of his waist. His chest was bare under an open white jacket, a blue scarf fluttering where it was looped around his neck. His hair, so blonde it looked almost white, was slicked back into a swirl at the back of his neck.

But his face.

There was something about it that was familiar, despite being almost entirely obscured by a black mask. She stared, trying to figure out why he looked so...

Tikki thumped against her leg inside her bag to try to get her to move, to do something, anything, but she felt frozen. Something was off.

He leaned in until his nose almost brushed hers. When had he gotten so close?

His eyes were so _green_.

“Marinette,” he murmured, his voice like silk and sin.

Her gaze flitted from green eyes to blue scarf and back and understanding made her heart drop like ice into her stomach. “Adrien,” she whispered, and her voice cracked and broke.

“No no,” he purred, and it was too clear that he said _no_ but meant _yes_ and the leather end of his tail slid up the side of her leg up to her ribs, snaking under her shirt. With a yelp she pushed it away, scrabbling it out of her clothes, and she could feel her face go hot. “Adrien’s away, I’m afraid. I’m Catwalk. But please, do leave a message.” There was something odd about the way he moved, the way he stalked through the space, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. He was standing too close and smelled like the backstage of a fashion show: cloth and makeup and cologne, cloying but somehow still alluring. He took her hand in one leather glove and pulled it up to his face, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure, Princess.”

She hated how that nickname rolled off his tongue, purred from behind a mask that shouldn’t look so much like Chat’s, but he leaned in and she couldn’t get her brain to focus, her nerves all shot through with fear and a strange sort of heat whenever his mouth twisted in a smirk. She’d never seen Adrien act like this, and that made it odd, but also wrong. It wasn’t really Adrien, _her_ Adrien, doing all this.

His usually kind smile split into a cruel grin and she flinched as he dragged her closer, her body pulled up against his.

“Let’s see your secrets, shall we?” he said, throwing his scarf tighter around his neck and snapping his fingers. A bright light loomed over his shoulder and shone in her face, making her squint her eyes shut to try to see through the blinding glare.

“A-Adrien! I-I mean, Catwalk, please!”

“You’ve been lying, haven’t you?” he said, drawing her even closer to his chest, so tight against his body that his grip on her hurt. Her hands fell against his bare skin and she turned her face away, trying to duck out of the hot, piercing beam of his spotlight, pushing weakly at him. “I know you have,” he purred. “The lights tell me everything in your eyes. Windows to the soul and all. And it looks like you’ve got _quite_ a few secrets to spill...”

“Adrien, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, half for before and half for what she was about to do.

“Little late for apologies, don’t you think?” he sneered, lifting a hand away from her to conjure a new attack. She pulled back as far as she could and slammed her leg up between his, flinching and jerking away when he _yowled_ like a cat, the sound alien and animal and too much like Chat Noir for comfort. She tore off down the street without so much as a backward glance, running until she could duck into a subway stairwell, tugging her bag open again.

“Tikki!” she whispered, and her kwami shot up to eye-level without hesitation. “Transform me!”

Suiting up had never felt so time-consuming before, so _slow_ , and when she finally tore out of the subway and back up to the street level, several more blinded victims milled around on the sidewalks, stumbling into street signs, lampposts, even each other.

“He’s been busy,” she muttered, half to Tikki and half to herself. She didn’t immediately see him, and she turned her gaze to the rooftops. Where was Chat Noir? She’d never needed that damn cat so badly as this before, and now he was nowhere to be seen!

 _Unless_ , she thought. _Unless it’s so much worse than I think_.

She pushed that thought from her mind and chewed on her lip. That idea was impossible to accept. It was chance. “Catwalk” was a modeling pun, that’s all.

Not... that.

She ran back the way she’d come, scanning the street level, then took a sharp turn to follow the throng of confessors to the next city square. She hopped up onto a lamppost to try to get a better vantage. Tikki’s anxiety bled through the bond, making her jumpy in a way she’d never been before. She’d never seen the kwami so worked up.

While she was distracted, searching the surrounding rooftops and the courtyards below, something small, thin, and terrifyingly baton-like struck across the back of her shoulder. She gasped, already feeling the red welt throbbing beneath the thin layer of her suit.

“Ladybug!” he shouted, and she spun, only barely keeping her footing on the lamppost. A clothes hanger clipped her across the face, leaving another red line that made her hiss and clap a hand to her cheek, and the hanger clattered to the ground below her. “I knew you’d show up sooner or later... I did rather hope we would have some time to _hang out!”_

She drew her yo-yo to deflect the next few that came flying toward her, cursing under her breath at the pain in her shoulder and her face. “Seriously?” she grumbled, as her foe flung yet more hangers at her like knives. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you’d have a weapon that wasn’t stupid, like all the other akuma...” She snorted and raised her voice, calling out to him. “That pun was so bad even _Chat_ wouldn’t say it!”

She leapt from post to post, swinging her way onto a rooftop with a stomach-churning swoop that left Catwalk on the ground behind her. She jogged up to the next building, jolting when she heard feet strike the roof tiles behind her. She spun, a grin halfway to her face before a hanger caught her across the arm. “Chat? —ah!”

Catwalk leered at her and she fell back a step.

She was off her game today. And at the worst possible time. This was _Adrien_. She couldn’t risk failure, not with him. She gritted her teeth and held her ground, watching him lurk out of reach. How many times had she prayed she’d never have to face a corrupted Adrien? And yet here they were.

Catwalk prowled closer to her, his black tail swooshing audibly back and forth, and she spun the yo-yo ahead of her to warn him off, refusing to back down again. He came closer, then closer still, and before she could switch to an attack he reached out with a hanger and caught the cord of her yo-yo, tangling it up. While she struggled, trying to pull her weapon back to her, he _pounced_. He slammed into her hands first, tackling her to the rooftop, the tiles cracking and breaking off into shards under her back as they slid another foot. He laughed and held her down, his hands on her arms and his legs weighing heavily against her own.

“Mmm, _my lady_ has been a very busy bee, hasn’t she,” he purred, and she tensed. Chat’s nicknames from that mask, eyes clouded with rage, were just... wrong.

His tail snaked up to stroke a long line up and down her side until she flinched and tried to squirm away. He shifted his grip on her, setting one hand on a shoulder to pin her as the other held a hanger against her throat to keep her down.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he whispered, his breath hot against her face, and then Catwalk leaned in, pressing his lips hard against hers, stifling and uncomfortable. She tensed, freezing beneath him, unsure of what to do or say. What did that even mean? Did he like Ladybug? All this time, Adrien was attached to her other half?

She kicked and squirmed, and he bit at her lip, sharp, so hard she felt skin tear, marking her upper lip.

He pulled back to look at his handiwork, smiling at the blood smeared across her mouth, then paused, as if he’d just noticed the cut that had started this whole mess.

“Oh now _that’s_ interesting,” he purred. He froze, head cocked as if listening to something, and words echoed painfully loud in her ears, crackling across a connection that it didn’t make sense to share.

_St–p toying with yo–r food Catw–lk—_

**Adrien! Please, listen to me, not him!**

— _arrings! Get her Mir–cul–s! She is helpl–ss witho–t Chat N_ —

**Adrien please! You’re better than this! You were chosen for meow-re!**

— _you **will** do as I say, or I will take back your powers –nd leave you just as much a **broken,** **nothing** **boy** as you were wh–n I found you!_

Something burned him, scorching through his head and his body, trying to force him to do... something, anything. To obey. They both screamed, the pain arcing viciously between them at a pace too fast to track. He flinched away from her, leaving just enough space for her to jerk upward, slamming her head into his so that he fell back, grip finally loosening.

Broken tiles skittered away under her as she stumbled up to her feet, racing for the edge of the rooftop to jump, swinging out her yo-yo, not noticing the sound of his feet until it was too late. He ran after her, leaping to slam his fingers down into the back of her shoulder where the hanger had left a mark, and the pain flared through her back and up into her skull. She screamed, tripping off the rooftop rather than jumping, and now she was off-course, falling instead of flying. She crashed into a balcony a level too low, flipping over the railing. A ceramic pot smashed open underneath her, spilling dirt and foliage across the ground.

For a moment, she lay there, her whole body aching.

He sneered at her from the rooftop behind, his masked face dark with rage and pain. “We’re not finished, Ladybug!” he called out, swiping his hand across his face and smearing blood where she’d hit him. She struggled to drag herself back up to her feet, looking up at him. “But I have someone else to deal with first.”

She felt rather than heard Hawk Moth’s roar of rage echoing between them, a pulse of pain in her chest as he bent double under the pressure of the other man’s will.

He turned, running out of sight across the rooftop, and she groaned, trying to suck a full breath into lungs choked with pain and the lingering throbbing of impact against the railing.

“Can’t let him get away,” she hissed, scanning the skyline before she vaulted after him, stumbling past chimneys and air vents as she tried to keep him in her line of sight. She couldn't afford to lose him while she didn't know where he was headed, but to her relief, he wasn’t moving very fast, his feet dragging, and she hesitated on an awning, trying to think.

“Maybe I have enough time,” she mumbled, and flung her yo-yo into the air. “ _Lucky Charm!”_

He spun around to face her at the call of her magic, spitting curses like venom. His boots crunched on the roof as he raised his hands to fight her, conjuring up spotlights that made her squint and made her head ache.

A thin polka-dotted box wrapped with a ribbon dropped into her hands.

It looked almost familiar, somehow, and she stared at it.

“What am I supposed to do with _this?”_

She sighed, took a step back as he turned to stalk toward her, and scanned the area. Vents, chimney stacks, flower pots, no, no, no... Roof tiles? No, billboard—no...

Her eyes fell on him and his scarf lit up like a beacon. She looked back at the box. It looked like...

“Oh!”

He snarled, animal and raw, and she held it up to show him as he came almost within arm’s reach, the lights shining on his back.

“You want the truth, Catwalk?”

He hesitated, eyes narrowed behind his mask. But he’d stopped. That, at least, was a good sign.

“You’re right. You were lied to. A lot of people lied to you, and kept secrets. But I’ll tell you the truth. If you want me to.”

He growled, edging slightly closer but at an angle, guarded rather than aggressive.

She tried a small smile, but at the fury in his face she let it drop, sighing, her shoulders sagging as if under a great weight. She showed him the box. “Your father didn’t give you that scarf.”

He recoiled, his expression changing. Slowly, but changing.

“I can prove it. Can I see it?”

He flinched again, head on an angle, and she winced as words screeched through their skulls like a hurricane wind.

_Don’t fall f–r her tricks! Take her Mir–cu–s! **Now!**_

He stood just out of range, watching her face. Slowly, so slowly she thought she would go mad from the waiting, he pulled his scarf off his neck.

Her earring beeped and they both tensed. She wouldn’t have much more time...

“Please,” she said again, and he very slowly held it out to her. He didn’t release it when she took hold of it, and she moved just slightly closer, carefully unfolding it to find the corner while he watched her. His whole body was as tight as a coiled spring, ready to pounce at her. His fingers curled into the scarf to keep it close to him, his gloves like claws.

She unfolded the last corner and showed him the gold embroidered letters of her name, subtle, but familiar. The tension broke like a snap and he leaned in close to see it.

**Adrien! Now!**

His fingers tightened in the scarf, his face twisting with a pain that was somehow different from before, internal instead of inflicted by someone else. She curled her hand around her end of the scarf and _yanked_ , feeling the cloth give way under his nails, tearing and ripping with an ugly sound. He collapsed with a broken scream and she leapt away from him, breathing in sharp, short gulps of air under the piercing spotlights.

The eerie, beautiful black akuma slid out from amongst the snarled yarn.

“You almost succeeded,” she whispered to it as it tried to escape, unsealing her yo-yo. She spun it in a vicious circle, perhaps a little more violently than usual, and swung.

“ _I free you from evil!”_

A white butterfly fluttered away from her and she sighed. “Good riddance,” she muttered, as her earring beeped again.

She flung the box into the air, calling for the reversal, for her magic, and distantly in the streets below she heard the startled, grateful gasps of healed victims. The scarf was restored, lying in an inelegant curl on the ground. A wash of purple slid over Adrien, and she turned to look at him, grateful it was over.

Except...

Adrien still lay sprawled across the ground, unmoving, his eyes shut. He was back in his normal shirt, his jeans... but the mask remained. His chest rose and fell with shallow, halting breaths, like he were caught in a nightmare.

Fear bit at her heart and she ran to sit beside his head, running her fingers through his hair. She tugged at the mask, letting go when it only pulled at his skin.

“No good,” she mumbled, and she could feel Tikki pushing at her from inside the earring. “This has never happened before...”

She looked him over. He _seemed_ alive, healthy perhaps, but he wouldn’t wake. She tugged at his clothes, patting his pockets, looking for something, anything. A glint of metal on his hand caught her eye and she frowned, holding up his hand to the light. She recognized the ring on his finger, but usually it was silver... not jet black.

Tikki pushed again.

“I sure wish you could give me clearer advice, Tikki!” she breathed, chewing on her lip. She looked at his hand, twisting it this way and that, then took a deep breath. “I hope this works...”

She tugged the ring off.

Adrien gasped, coughing, and a tiny black kitten tumbled out of the ring. She slid the ring back on his hand—she’d stolen enough of his belongings for one lifetime—and scooped up the little creature, holding it close to her chest to examine it. It breathed sluggishly, whiskers trembling, and she was reminded far too much of Tikki.

She bit her lip, steeling herself for Adrien’s next words.

They never remembered. They woke up disoriented and confused and missing time. It would be only seconds, she supposed, before she heard that soft _how did I get here?_

But it never came.

He blinked, groaned, put a hand to his forehead like it hurt. Then suddenly he bolted up, scanning around him, and she jerked back slightly in surprise, hand curling a little tighter, protective, around the small creature in her hand. “M-Marinette,” he muttered, searching for a familiar face. “I– I was gonna hurt Marinette, I wanted to... I hope she got away...”

“Adrien,” she said, and her voice caught, wavering dangerously.

He jolted, turned to face her. For a moment he was rigid, staring, and then he visibly slumped, shoulders sagging under guilt’s heavy weight. “Ladybug,” he said, and his eyes looked... she wasn’t sure how to describe them. “I’m sorry, I...”

“Shh,” she said, before she could stop herself, pressing her free hand to his chest. “Just... breathe for a moment. You reacted abnormally to the akuma’s takeover, you need to just sit—”

He panicked. She’d never seen Adrien panic before, but there was no other way to describe it. He froze. There was a bright pain in his eyes, like horror setting in, and he patted at his shirt, checking his pockets with increasing urgency. “Plagg– Plagg are you okay? Where– I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to...”

She winced, the pieces falling into place with painful clarity, and she looked down at the little black kitten curled up in her palm.

“Adrien?” she said, her voice low, almost hoarse. Her thoughts were whirling too fast to track. All this time... When he looked her way she carefully extended her hand to him, uncurling her fingers. The little kwami shivered and curled up a little tighter, as if cold in the autumn air.

“ _Plagg_ ,” he breathed, gently taking him out of her hands and cradling him to his chest. “Hey...”

Her earring beeped and he flinched at the sound, suddenly returning to the real world with the weight of new revelation hanging heavy between them.

“Oh,” he said.

She gave him a tired sort of smile, resting her elbows on her knees. “Oh,” she agreed.

“Well,” he said after an awkwardly long moment of silence, and then he grinned, just a little. Hesitant. “Uh, I guess the...”

“...oh god, don’t,” she begged him, burying her face against her knees to keep from laughing.

“Cat’s out of the bag?” he finished, and laughed softly when she punched his shoulder.

“Honestly! And to think I never figured it out even with all your terrible jokes.”

He set Plagg inside his collar and wrapped his scarf back into place, covering the kwami in a little loop. “Then... you know who I am. I mean. You know. Actually me. Not just... well, _Famous Model_ _Adrien Agreste_.”

She cleared her throat and looked away, weighing her words. Her earring beeped again.

“Uh...” he said, peering to look at her earring. He sighed. “Only one left. My lady.” She couldn’t decide if he sounded disappointed or just resigned to her inevitable departure.

“Well,” she whispered, hugging her knees, and kept her gaze on the ground. “I... suppose fair’s fair...”

“No,” he said, sitting up taller and scooting closer to her. “No, I don’t want you to tell me out of obligation, I–”

“The secrets, the... the lying. It hurt us both,” she said, finally looking up at him, and she saw him flinch. “You know that even better than I do.”

“I suppose...”

She smiled faintly, and before she could think better of it she leaned forward, gently kissing his cheek. When she pulled back again he was very still, eyes wide and face turning a bright shade of pink.

Her earring beeped a final warning.

They sat in silence, staring at one another, as the long seconds passed.

Tikki tumbled free, collapsing onto her shoulder, and the suit melted away in a flash of light that made him wince and snap his eyes shut, blinking until his vision cleared.

She smiled, nervous, as he looked at her again, the two cuts pulling painfully when her lips curved. “No more secrets?” she asked, wishing her voice wouldn’t crack so obviously.

For a moment he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and her nerves were raw enough to snap.

Then he leaned in close, pushing his nose against hers like a kitten, and now that she knew who it was, she couldn’t imagine how she’d never realized he had Chat’s eyes.

“No more secrets,” he said, and he smiled. “Not between us. Okay?”

“Deal,” she said, and grinned, and pushed back against his nose, nuzzling, until he started to laugh. “No more lies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR JOINING ME ON THIS WILD RIDE~ I hope you enjoyed it!


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